Merde
by Daughter of Lilith
Summary: Most people like to think of themselves as in control, evolved beyond giving in to basic desires and needs. Jean-Luc Picard is one such man, but he finds that there are instances when needs can't be ignored, especially when a beautiful woman is involved.


_Setting:_ AU for several reasons. I did toss around canon chronology a bit: _Attached_ happens after _Insurrection_ and _Chain_ _of_ _Command_ after _Attached_.  
_Codes:_ P/T, minor R, C  
_Rating:_ T for adult implications  
_Disclaimer:_ Definitely not mine, which I'm sure a lot of people are very relieved to hear ;)  
_Feedback_: Flames, egoboosts & constructive criticism… bring it on!  
_Summary_: Most people like to think of themselves as in control, evolved beyond giving in to basic desires and needs. Jean-Luc Picard is one such man, but he finds that there are instances when needs can't be ignored, especially when a beautiful woman is involved.

**Merde**

The viewscreen was as black as starless space, but somehow he could she her eyes reflected in it. His heart throbbed angrily in his chest, as if trying to escape to go looking for the one, who had once held it in her gentle hands.

It had been days since they'd heard anything from her or from captain Picard, and that was no cause for concern since they were on shore leave, yet something felt wrong. He was sitting in the captain's chair and that should at least give him a sense of satisfaction, but instead he felt like running; running like crazy back to those black eyes that had been haunting him ever since she'd left.

Something was about to change, and Will Riker knew that he wasn't going to like it.  


* * *

It had turned out to be easier than she had expected, Deanna concluded happily. It had taken but a question about archeology during the hours in the shuttle and the tension of the past weeks had floated from him together with his words.

She surprised him a number of times by interjecting her own comments and opinions. When he'd asked her how she'd acquired the knowledge, she'd told him about the geology classes she had followed before going to the Academy.

Now, two days after their arrival he was completely relaxed; removed from the worries of commanding the flagship of the Federation and most of the time, removed from the memories of the last two missions as well.. He was leaning back in his chair, a glass of wine in his hands and an unusual sparkle in his eyes.

After he'd finished his wine they walked back to the hotel. She sensed that, now that their conversation had dwindled down to a companionable silence, his thoughts turned to the last mission. Knowing that words were of no use she instead linked her arm through his, leaning slightly against his shoulder. The light touch brought a smile back onto his face. This was why she'd come with him. To guard him from dark emotions and too many memories; a mix of counselor and friend.

That, and because Beverly had refused to go.

In silence they continued their way until they stood in front of her room. "Thank you Sir, for a pleasant evening."

"Deanna, my name is..." He trailed off when he noticed the teasing smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for your company."

She nodded, throwing a dark, annoying curl right in front of her eye. Taking a step back she prepared to close the door, but a strange mix of emotions coming from Picard made her hesitate. "Jean-Luc?"

"I...There's something I've wanted to ask you, can I come in?"

"Of course." She opened the door further and let him pass. Grabbing a bottle of wine, or at least something like it, out of the food container she handed it to him and excused herself. It seemed a perfect excuse to allow the anxiety he suddenly felt to calm and give him the chance to compose himself a little. She'd always preferred dresses and skirts over any kind of pants and figured that, after a day of hiking in a uniform-like attire, she had earned the right to change into a more comfortable outfit.

When she re-entered the small living area, she felt his admiration of her dress. Still not used to the relaxed, non-Starfleet setting and her heightened awareness off him she blushed slightly as she accepted the glass he held out to her. "Thank you."

Jean-Luc acknowledged her quietly, trying to find a neutral place to lock his eyes on. "How do you do it?" He met Troi's black eyes for just a second and saw confusion in them, prompting him to be clearer. "How do you deal with what you sense? I never really thought about it, but the implant made me realize that it must be hard."

Having to decide on whether to answer him or ask him about the implant, Deanna chose to reply; hoping that he would answer her questions in return. "It's not that difficult...it's a little like being in a hotel room listening to your favorite music while the people in the rooms around you are making enough noise for you to hear. If you focus on your music you can ignore the noise for a large part, if you don't, your music gets lost among the noise. Sometimes it is turned higher for just a moment, or a particular loud tone draws your attention. And then there are times when you hardly hear the other noises, or when it takes very little concentration to focus, or times where the noises are particularly annoying and almost impossible to ignore." Finishing her explanation she sipped her wine to ease the dryness in her mouth and monitored her companion for his reaction.

"So, it is a matter of concentration at all times?" That would explain the amazing self-control and patience she'd showed through the years she'd served under him.

"In a way it hardly requires conscious thought, and I've lived with other people's emotions all my life; I've never known an other way."

He stared at her face as if he'd never seen her before. He'd asked her a little about empathy before, but she'd always avoided the topic and now that she'd truly answered him, his respect for her grew as it had since his time on Kes-Pritt. Being able to read Beverly's thoughts and emotions had been interesting and challenging at first, but they'd quickly realized how dangerous such intimacy could be. Unlike Deanna, they had not been trained not to react or judge what they sensed, and they had found themselves on the edge of fighting. "I never understood what empathy entailed, and I probably still don't, but I do know I never truly appreciated the difficulties you face because of it."

Something in his voice had caught her by surprise, but it disappeared too soon for her to pinpoint. "Because of what happened on Kes-Pritt?" The opportunity was too good to pass up. Beverly had told her a little of what happened, but her sessions with Picard had so far all been related to his capture by the Cardassians.

"Yes. Being able to hear someone else's thoughts and feel their emotions was quite an experience, but I learned a number of things I'd rather not know."

Deanna nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. The sadness she felt within him, although quickly suppressed, struck a chord within her own soul.

Picard sighed and his expression turned mournful as he gulped down the remainder of his wine. "Being connected made us aware of each other's feelings. Or at least, that was what I thought. When we returned I tried to..." He skipped ahead; unable to verbalize what he wanted to say and knowing that Troi would understand. "...But she refused."

"That's not what saddens you." Deanna spoke softly, taking care not to come across as prying.

"No. When she refused, I was relieved. I do love her, but I think a relationship is not what I wanted from her."

That was about the same way Beverly felt, Deanna knew from her talks with the Doctor. "Then what makes you so sad?"

He smiled wryly at that and put his empty glass on the table, then studied her face. "Because it made me realize that I always fall in love with the women I can't have. Whether because of duty, or culture or mutual friends. There's always something that comes in between. I realized that I'll probably stay alone for the rest of my life"

"The future hasn't been written yet, and you'll always have us, your friends." She reminded him, taking his hand in hers. "You may still find a suitable mate, someone who'll send your heart spinning."

Jean-Luc shrugged and tried to suppress a smile. "And if not I can always turn to your mother." He chuckled at her fake-shocked expression.

"I won't tell her you said that" Deanna laughed, wagging her finger in front of his eyes.

"I guess that is an aspect of telepathy that is both a blessing and a curse," he said after a pause, his voice completely sober again "you're never alone." She surprised him by dropping her head, causing her jet-black hair to hide her face, and mumbling something so quietly that he couldn't make out her words. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, it was nothing." As good as she was at hiding her feelings, this time they shone brightly in her large, black eyes.

"It didn't sound like nothing," he prodded gently.

Acquiescing Deanna nodded and looked away from him. "I said, 'you'd be surprised', that's all."  


* * *

Beverly Crusher returned to her quarters after a short and uneventful work-out. It was almost as if life on the ship had been put on hold in the absence of the captain and counselor and they'd only been gone for three days. She missed her talks with Deanna, especially now that she was still dealing with the aftermath of Kes-Pritt and the mission to Celtris III.

She'd thought about talking to Riker, knowing that if she asked he would listen, but she wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep what she told him from altering his own perceptions of the captain.

Besides, there wasn't much to tell, was there? She loved Jean-Luc, and now she knew he loved her, and it felt safe, but she didn't want to explore it. The strange dynamics of their friendship were like a perfect dance. Slow, then quick. Easy paces were ever so often interrupted by a complex combination of twists and turns. Familiar, thrilling, exhausting and at times heart-breaking; but through all that she could count on him as a friend, first and foremost and she didn't want their dance to end.

When he got back from leave, she'd try to get their breakfast meetings going again. She still felt bad for not visiting him regularly after his return from Celtris III but, she'd feared he was still angry at her for not giving 'them' a chance, and he had refused to talk to anyone but Deanna anyway. Which was why she had refused Deanna's request to accompany him on shore leave.

Sometimes she wondered what they would do when Deanna left, she was the safe-haven where they could talk about whatever bothered them, knowing that they wouldn't be judged.

So, when her friends got back the work-outs would continue, and she and Jean-Luc would have breakfast again and everything would be back to the way it was before. Yes, that was how it would go, she was certain...

But then why was it that she couldn't make herself believe that? Why was it that she felt that something was about to change, and that she wasn't going to like it?  


* * *

The alarm he'd set wasn't what had woken him. Sitting straight up in bed Jean-Luc tried to figure out what had. Had it been another nightmare? No, he knew it hadn't been. He wasn't sweaty, or feeling unpleasant in the least bit. On the contrary, he felt damn good. It must've been a dream, he realized, and a good one for he hadn't felt this good in what seemed like ages.

It was completely opposite of how he'd felt a couple of hours before, when Deanna had woken him from a nightmare. He didn't remember all the details, but he knew she'd been there to chase the horrible memories away, like so many times before.

As he stood up, something 'down low' caught his attention. "Merde, a very good dream indeed." But try as he might, he couldn't remember what the dream had been about.

Deciding to let the mystery rest, he took a much-needed cold shower and prepared breakfast. He considered inviting Deanna, but chose not to and quietly munched on his food.

Checking the chronometer he saw he had thirty minutes left before he had to leave for an archaeological expedition to the Akey-mountaingroup. He packed lunch and sat down on the couch waiting. The expedition would return in the evening, and he'd seen a small restaurant near the hotel that seemed perfect to have dinner after a day 'playing in the mud', as Troi called it Maybe he should've invited her along with the expedition? She had expressed interest in archaeology, and he did enjoy her company. But then again, she told him that she planned on going to a nearby beach today and do nothing all day long. He could understand that; the last weeks hadn't been easy on her either. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't invite her to dinner.

He wrote her a note on one of the padds he'd brought with him and knocked on the door that connected their rooms to see if she was awake. When she didn't respond, he opened the door and slipped inside, silently grateful for her insistence on keeping the door unlocked. He put the padd on the table and was about to leave, when he noticed that the door to her bedroom was open.

Knowing that he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself he peeked inside.

Deanna lay on her stomach, her face turned towards him and her arms bend around her head, the right one nearly completely hidden underneath her hair. He studied her face and saw a pained expression settled on her features. Was she sensing something?

Almost as if in response to his unspoken question her frown turned into a smile and she rolled onto her back, pulling the sheets off her body. Jean-Luc stood frozen in the doorpost, his eyes helplessly took in the naked form of his counselor. Toes, waist, breasts...he could see everything.

A movement of her arm brought him out of his shock, and he quickly retreated back to his own room. What had he been thinking?! Sneaking in on his counselor like that? She probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it; they had seen each other naked before, after all. Hell, he'd even been forced to kiss her once. But this was different. There was no third party involved; he hadn't been forced, and there was nothing to distract him. Nothing that he could focus on to avoid really looking at her. He'd always been aware that she was a pretty woman, beautiful even...but seeing her like that on the bed, her hair fanned out and her arms stretched out above her head added a whole new dimension to her.

He forced her out of his head as he introduced himself to the other members of the archaeological team, but was only successful for a short while. Why was this throwing him off balance as much as it did? He'd walked in on women before and yes, it was embarrassing but quickly overcome, and it wasn't like she was any different from the other women he'd seen, he told himself, remembering her as he'd seen her that morning. "Merde" where was that cold shower when you needed it?  


* * *

The expedition had been intense and surprisingly interesting. He'd even managed not to think about Deanna...too often. But now that they were returning to the city, he was faced with the dinner appointment. Of course he could claim being too exhausted to follow up on the appointment, but he hated lying to her. Besides, she would know it when he lied. On that matter, would she know about that morning too?

God, what he wouldn't give to be back on the ship where he could be the Captain again, forgetting that this leave had ever happened and ease back into his strange but comforting friendship with Troi.

Having been dropped off in front of his hotel, Picard went to his room and took a quick shower, washing all the dirt off his body; it was amazing where the stuff crept. He changed into stylish dark-brown trousers and a cream-colored blouse, and after quickly brushing his teeth he left for the restaurant.

As soon as he rounded the last corner, he saw her. She stood in front of the entrance and seemed to be talking to one of the waiters. That was secondary information, however, for his eyes were locked on her shimmering, grey dress. The attire brought back memories of that morning, and he quickly focused his gaze on her face. She spun towards him and their eyes met over a distance of several meters and the contact set his body into motion. "Miss Troi," he greeted her, deciding against the traditional French greeting, "you look tres magnifique."

"Why thank you, Jean-Luc. You look good, too, for someone who's been rolling around in the mud all day." She grinned at his obvious discomfort and then turned back to the waiter. "I was just talking to Peter here, I believe he said there was a table for two available." She pinned 'Peter' with a smile and the young man shot a murderous look at Picard before taking her arm and leading her inside.

They were quickly seated and after being given a bottle of wine on the house they were left alone with the menus.

He watched, trying no to be too interested, as she adjusted the straps of her dress. "Is that style common on Betazed?"

Deanna self-consciously glanced down at herself. "Yes...I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's all right." But she knew otherwise, and she was right. The dress did make him uncomfortable in this setting. A double slit to her hips parted the shimmering grey material for her legs to move freely and the V-cut of the bodice was so deep it couldn't be far from her navel. After this morning, it only made him more aware of her sexuality.

"Did you enjoy the expedition?"

A waiter came to take their orders and after the man had retreated back to the kitchen he answered her, trying not to look anywhere below her eyes.

Lying in his bed Jean-Luc reflected upon the evening. Despite his initial discomfort they'd settled into an easy conversation. As topics changed from light-hearted to serious, and even a little sad, they'd taken comfort in little touches and gestures, and if he concentrated he could still feel her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodnight.

He'd once told her, years ago, that in many ways their relationship was as close as that of lovers, which still held true. She knew more about him than even Beverly did, and he trusted her more than anyone else when it came to not judging him for something he thought or did. She had rescued him from himself after the Borg, and she was the one who'd forced him to relax when he needed it, like now. Was it strange that he felt attracted to her? That he wondered what it'd be like if they...Jean-Luc halted his thoughts and turned over. He needed his sleep, he'd promised to take Deanna hiking through the Crystal Valley tomorrow.  


* * *

"What about commander Riker?"

Lowering her glass she looked over its rim at him. "What about him?" She stretched her legs and curled them underneath her body again, like she had been doing every so often since they'd sat down. Probably something she did to ease the soreness in her muscles from hiking through rough terrain all day.

"You seemed closer than before during the Ba'Ku crisis." A look of hurt crossed her face, and it made him blurt out an apology.

"I guess it's only fair after I questioned you about Beverly." He wanted to tell her that that wasn't why he'd asked, but the small smile that curled itself around her lips told him that she already knew. "We were closer for a while, but you know Will, he values his freedom." She reached out and placed her hand on his in correspondence to his feelings. "I know the loneliness bothers you, Jean-Luc, but there's time, and where there is time, there are also opportunities."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" As soon as he'd spoken them, he wanted to take the words back. He was doing what she did; reacting to her expression, her emotions, but for some reason he felt as if he'd invaded her privacy.

"If need be." Something in her voice compelled him to reach out to her, and he traced a path with his fingers from the blue band that held her hair to her jaw. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd felt her shiver under his touch. "You're a beautiful woman."

"Thank you." His eyes focused on her full lips, made darker by the lightest coat of lipstick. His hand lay still along her cheek, and he felt himself leaning, he was aware of his artificial heart beating in his chest, his breath gently brushing her skin. Oh, how soft it must be. He'd dreamt about her for three nights now, but the dreams hadn't prepared him for this moment, and as much as he wanted it to fade into the next, he also wanted it to freeze. He reached further, and she didn't seem to be moving away. He remembered her as he'd seen her that morning; naked and relaxed upon her covers, her pale beauty exposed to his view. And their lips met. Hers were soft and sweet against his, the taste of wine still on them. He ached to feel her body against his, to have someone to love, if only for a night.

Caught up in his emotions Deanna responded, her heart ignoring the warnings her mind screamed. This was wrong; he was her captain, her friend. But he was also lonely, just as lonely as she was, and her empathic heart would not deny him what he needed so badly.

Picard's heart lurched when he felt her return the intimate touch, and his hand slipped to the back of her head, pushing the hair band down and releasing her luxurious curls, to pull her against him. This was what he wanted...what he needed.  


* * *

She woke early the next morning, disoriented by the sunlight on her face. Her mind was foggy and drowsy, her skin tingling and her limbs pleasantly languid. She rolled over, but was stopped by something warm and solid. Realization hit her with the force of a phaser blast, and she jumped out of bed. This couldn't be true! The urge to flee was strong, but not strong enough to get her to move. What had she done? He was a friend. A man she greatly admired and respected, but above that he was her superior. This could be devastating to their working relationship.

All the warnings her mind had screamed the previous night shot through her head, this time freely moving around, not hindered by his emotions like the night before. There was nothing to overwhelm her rational response and it screamed at her what it'd tried to make her see earlier. It was wrong.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and began to dress, so caught up in her turmoil that she did not notice Picard awakening behind her. "Deanna?"

Startled, she spun around, her unfastened dress revealing tantalizing glimpses of the body underneath. "Sir."

For a second he thought she was joking, but then he saw the fear in her eyes. "Deanna."

"This was wrong. I shouldn't have...I apologize, Sir."

He climbed out of bed and reached for her. She leaned into his touch, shaking like crazy and obviously trying to stop herself

"No."

"Yes!" She spun from his grasp. "Yes, it was!"

"Why?"

"Because you're my superior! Because we're friends. Because of Beverly and Will. Because you do not love me!" Tears threatened to fall from the black eyes that looked past him. He was going to object, but she wouldn't let him. "There's physical attraction yes, but that's all. A good fuck to battle the loneliness."

Hearing her speak that word invoked a definite sense of discontinuity, but somehow it seemed to fit. Did he love her? He didn't know. He knew that last night he'd needed her more than he could remember needing anyone before, but did he love her? He also knew that he did not love her like he had Beverly, and that he loved and valued her as a friend...but he could not tell if he really loved her and perhaps that in itself proved that she was right.

He was about to answer her, when the familiar sound of his communicator interrupted. A look of surprise passed between them s he reached for the golden badge that lay next to the bed. "Picard here."

Riker's familiar voice filled the room

"What is your ETA?"

"Very well, Counselor Troi and myself will be ready for beam-up. Picard out."

He looked back at Deanna, uncertain of what to say or do. "I'll go pack my belongings, Sir." She made the decision for him and left the room before he could utter another word, leaving him alone with his thoughts.  


* * *

"Welcome back!" Beverly Crusher exclaimed as her two best friends materialized on the transporter platform. Deanna hugged her fiercely, gladder to have left the planet than she'd ever admit to anyone, including herself. "It's good to be back." Troi stepped back as Beverly moved on to her captain, ignoring the set of hazel eyes she felt on her back.

She'd almost made it out of the small room when the doors opened to admit the Enterprise's second in command. The irony did not escape Deanna. Confined in this little space where the three people who, together with her mother, were the corners of her life. Her captain; mentor, friend and patient, but now also a lover, be it only for one night. Her Imzadi; friend, confidant and once-lover and Beverly; friend, confidant and occasional partner-in-crime. Their friendships were strong and yet so fragile.

"Captain, Deanna, welcome back." She nodded in reply and watched as he walked to his superior to update him on their new orders. Seeing the opportunity Deanna slipped into the corridor and hurried to her quarters, hoping fervently that Beverly wouldn't follow her. She needed to think. A lot.  


* * *

Two days had passed and if he didn't remember that night so vividly he would never have believed it'd happened. He'd observed her since their return; always taking care not to be too obvious or watch too long, but he'd seen enough. She was composed, no different than she used to be, except when their eyes met. He knew she regretted what had happened and for a short while so had he. But after five days of being constantly in each other's company he now missed her, and he knew that even if that night had not happened he would still have missed her, and he wondered if she missed him too.

Of course she ended all discussions before he had a change to verbalize his thoughts or feelings. 'It should never have happened. You're my commander, my friend, and my mentor. I will serve under you like before and with a little time the night will be forgotten. I love you, Jean-Luc, as a friend." And there was nothing he could do about it.

**End**


End file.
